


Sick and Tired

by FFanon



Category: Sweet Virginia (2017)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Sick Character, doctor visit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 00:38:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18927745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFanon/pseuds/FFanon
Summary: Sam takes care of his love





	Sick and Tired

If he's being honest, he doesn't like doctors.  They only seem to bring him bad news - the death of his family, his Parkinson's diagnosis.  But this visit isn't for him, it's for her.  

 

He keeps his arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side so she can rest her head against him.  When his cheek brushes her temple, the heat from her fever warms his skin.  She tucks her hand into her jacket sleeve and coughs into the fabric.  Sam rubs her arm through each tremor before pressing a kiss to her hair as she settles back into him. 

 

Two days she's had a high fever.  It started a week ago when she called to cancel their dinner date, stating how she felt she was coming down with something.  Had their relationship been more new, he'd think it was just a line.  But they're not a new couple.  Ten months already.  Ten months of being the happiest he's ever been since his family.  

 

Visiting her at her apartment to bring her soup from the diner led to him checking on her every day.  And every day she got worse.  Not one to run to a doctor, he put up with her stubbornness about not going.  Instead, she'd ask Sam to just pick up something over the counter for her to take.  But when she was no longer eating and her fever reached a new high, he was firm when he said that he was taking her to the doctor.  When she didn't fight him on it, he knew she felt awful.

 

 When she moans a little into his coat, he wonders if he should have taken her to the ER instead.  

 

"Maybe we should head to the hospital," he whispers to her, his hand abandoning her shoulder to smooth over her hair a few times. 

 

"I don't want to move again," she looks at him.  Looking at her again, she's right.  He'd feel bad making her get back into the car.  Her skin is so pale and her nose red from the tissues.  She looks as sick as she feels.  

 

"I know you don't," he kisses her forehead, "But if they don't call us in ten minutes, I think we're better off goin'." 

 

They've already been waiting twenty minutes and he's getting agitated.  All he wants is for her to start feeling better. 

 

Hearing her sniffle, he pulls a pack of tissues from his coat pocket and hands them to her.  He had made sure to grab them as they left.  

 

"Thank you," she whispers and pulls one out, blowing her nose.  

 

"Sam?"

 

He looks at her and sees a hesitation in her face. 

 

"Would you mind coming in with me?" 

 

The question puts him at ease because he wants to go in with her.  If anything just to make sure she gets in because she's so weak that walking is difficult, but also to hear what the doctor says.  To make sure he learns everything to make sure he does every single thing he can to make her better.  But he hasn't been sure how to ask her if that would be okay. 

 

"I was hopin' I could," he responds. 

 

She rubs his forearm and presses her mouth to his shoulder.  She hasn't kissed him since she's been sick and they're both craving it, but she'd never forgive herself if she upped his chances of getting sick more than they already have been by him being this close to her.

 

Her cheek replaces her mouth on his shoulder, closing her eyes, she grips onto his sleeve.  She won't even hold his hand when he's tried.  So adamant about not getting him sick that she keeps the physical contact incredibly minimal. 

 

The clock on the wall keeps half his attention - he was serious about the ten minutes.  Six minutes later and a nurse steps out and calls her name.  

 

At the sound of her name, her bleary eyes open and she glances at the nurse, then to Sam.  Together, they stand up and she links her arm with his.  

 

The nurse leads them into an exam room and starts taking down preliminary information as to the reason for the visit.  His lady manages to answer all the questions, but Sam is there to answer the medicines she's been taking and some other small questions whose answers are fuzzy to her.  

 

When the nurse leaves, he takes a seat in the chair placed in the corner of the room and keeps his eyes on his girl whose tiredly slumped, sitting on the edge of the bed.  The tissue paper lining the bed doesn't even crumple, that's how still she is.  Sam watches as her eyelids droop shut.  He doesn't disturb her, just makes sure she doesn't end up leaning over. 

 

They both sit up a bit more when the doctor enters the room a few minutes later.  He asks the same questions as the nurse did and starts poking and prodding her.  Checks her ears, eyes, mouth.  Takes her temperature and notes the high fever as they had stated.  Sam watches as he lifts the back of her shirt to have her breathe as he listens with a stethoscope.  

 

The doctor has concern written on his face and asks her to breath in deep a few more times.  She coughs with a couple, but the extra breathing seems to satisfy his request.  Stepping back as he removes the stethoscope from his ears, he looks at her, "I hear some fluid in your lungs.  And with your other symptoms, I'd say you have pneumonia. You really should have come in sooner." 

 

And Sam sees the doctor glance at him.  He really hates doctors.  

 

But before he can say anything - 

 

"I didn't want to," she speaks up, "Thought I could fight it on my own."

 

And that's her.  The woman who, no matter how sick she is, sticks up for him. 

 

The doctor gives her the disapproving look before telling the both of them what antibiotics he's prescribing her and instructing Sam to make sure she gets plenty of fluids and rest.  

 

Once they're out of the office, he picks up her medications and takes her straight home.  He leaves her only to pick up more things for her to drink. 

 

He sleeps on the couch the first night and she's been sleeping so much that she never notices the duffel bag he brings over the next day.  He stays for a little over a week, Rosie watching over the motel, until one morning he wakes up to the smell of coffee and pancakes.  

 

Rubbing his face, he sits up and looks over the back of the couch towards her open kitchen area.  When she turns around from the stove to place a plate of pancakes and mug of coffee on the table, she catches his eye. 

 

Already she looks so much better.  Her coloring is back and she's happier.  

 

"I was just going to wake you," she says as she walks over to him. 

 

The soft breath of amusement she makes lets him know his hair is a mess.

 

A soft grin, "Feeling better?"

 

"Finally," she nods making her way around the couch.  Sam shifts to bring his bare feet to the floor and is quick to tug on her hips, settling her onto his lap.  

 

Arms slowly sliding around his neck, her lips part against his and they finally share a kiss in over two weeks.  Despite the long wait, it isn't rushed.  He takes his time, savoring the taste of her.  

 

She makes a quiet sound when his hand fits to her cheek, thumb caressing along her cheekbone as she parts her lips a little more.

 

Both of them are breathless at the end, foreheads resting together for a brief moment before he leans back to look at her.  

 

She sweetly pets his beard, "The pancakes are a thank you for taking care of me," she kisses his cheek, then kisses the corner of his mouth.  

 

His hand moves from her cheek to slide into her hair, palm resting against the back of her head.   Dropping his head, his beard tickles her collarbone as he kisses the base of her throat.

 

"Mind if they wait?" his lips move against her skin.  They leave behind a kiss on her neck, "Haven't been able to touch you like this for two weeks."

 

It makes a laugh fall out of her before her eyes close at his lips moving.  

 

"My other thank you was to get you back in my bed," she breathes, "The couch isn't doing you any favors." 

 

Sam hums in acknowledgment as he leaves more soft presses of his lips along her shoulder.  

 

She manages to peel away from him, standing up and putting her hand out to him.

 

Taking her hand, he stands up and lets her lead him into her bedroom. 


End file.
